The Second
by anti-hopeful369
Summary: When a war breaks out beween Magical America and Magical Europe, London turns to their hero to make it all better, but can he?


_Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter character nor do I own any of its affiliates._

_A/N: Points to whoever can guess the video game franchises I'm paraphrasing quotes from. For anyone who doesn't know, infrared lasers can only be seen through infrared lenses ergo, scopes and eye pieces, or in this case, a magically enhanced cornea._

_Yours Truly,_

_The Eldest Hero_

* * *

_**RATATATATATAT!! WHEEEEEOOOOOUUUU-- BOOOOOOOM!! WHEEEEEOOUU-- BOOOOOM!! RATATATATATAT!! RATATAT!! RATATAT!! PSHEW PSHEW… PSHEW… BOOM!! BOOM!! CRASH!!… BOOM!! insert screaming here RATATAT!! SPLAT!! more screaming CLACK! CLACKCLACK!! silence**_

_Great Britain : Zulu : 0843 8/3_

_Diagon Alley - Adjacent Ollivander's_

_Bob peered into the window of Ollivander's, eyeing the old wandmaker wearily. Static hissed through His's earpiece. His long robes clung to his Kevlar armor's outer layer. He craned his neck, inconspicuously positioning his mouth near the microphone mounted on his shoulder._

"_Fire Team SPORT-A.(actual) in position. All other units confirm, over." a bout of static rattled his eardrums._

"_A-R SPORT-1 checking in, over.", answered a feminine, yet steely voice._

"_A-R SPORT-2 in position… Oh woops, o-over.", quivered a youthful and obviously frightened voice._

"_Sniper Team ROMEO-3 en route over.", answered a monotonous individual while the faint clicks of the radial dial of a high precision SN9 FFP high-magnification rifle scope could be heard grunts._

"_A-R ROMEO-2 in position.", answered an overly enthused voice with a resounding, "Get Some!.. Over." for good measure. Bob smirked to himself. _

"_Armored Div. ROMEO-A. ready, steady, and rarin' to rock. How copy, over."_

"Copy ROMEO Actual. How's our eyes 'n ears, ROMEO? Over." asked Bob as he turned inwards facing the wall of the alleyway, concealing himself from a gaggle of children as they exited the wandmaker's shop.

"_ROMEO-1 checking in.", answered a distinctive southern drawl._

"_Support ROMEO-1 in position."_

"_Support Team JULIET-1 in position."_

"_Armored GOLF-1 in position."_

"_Sniper Team GOLF-2 en route."_

"All units hold 'til we get the O-K, how copy, over?"

Bob cringed as a series of affirmatives hit his ears through the heavy static. He fingered his 13mm Gyrojet pistol in anticipation. Nothing had even started yet, and his dragonhide gloves were already saturated in sweat. A hiss of static interrupted his thoughts once more.

"_SPORT-1, this is SPORT-Actual. Standby to adjust the ROE (rules of engagement). How copy, over?" _

"Solid copy. All units, standby for ROE, over."

"_Affirmative."_

The Bob reluctantly drew his hand from his Gyro and kept it hidden within the confines of his long full body robes, and flipped the safety off with a faint click. The sound of a multitude of faint clicks were muffled by the all too familiar noise of Diagon Alley's magical inhabitants as his squad mates readied their weapons in various positions behind him. He slipped a small package from a slot on his belt, and to be sure, his comrades did the same. He turned to the cloaked figures behind him.

"_This is SPORT ACTUAL, open-range. How copy?"_

"Crystal, over." He let his cloak fall, revealing a BDU (battle dress uniform) strapped with heavy ordinance Move fast, get inside, and get the job done. I'll see you at the de-briefing."

"Sir!" replied the figures. They all cast notice-me-not charms on themselves, Bob included, and sprinted off to God-knows-where.

He set out onto the main street of Diagon Alley, blending easily with the hundreds and hundreds of witches and wizards doing their daily shopping. Stepping into Ollivander's, whose owner was currently busy with a small troupe of 10 or 11 year old children and their parents, he ripped the brown packaging of his item and left the paper lying everywhere. "Oh, hello, I'll be right with you sir, if you would kindly wait a moment." said the old man over the excited chatter of the little witches and wizards. Bob froze, thinking that the old wizard was addressing him, but was relieved to see a fairly aged wizard step past him and wave to Ollivander. He crouched down and whipped out a rugged and battered looking wand. He tapped his left temple and his left eye flickered, the iris turning red, and his vision tuning itself to receive the uplink from his Gyro to his eye. He pulled out the afore mentioned projectile weapon and switched on the infrared laser.

He placed the item on the floor. 20 pounds of C4, plastic explosive. With his wand, he tapped the small brown package which shifted its outward appearance to match the mahogany floors. The object primed with a small whine, and a series of lights used to represent each of the packages carried by his squad mates began to spout from the tip of his wand. He watched as 4 lights flickered on. Bob paused and began to chant the mantra, "Please, Baby, please." as military tech. had the reputation for failing at the worst times. This being the few seconds before similar packages would begin to blow the shit out of the magical community, surely counted as one of "the worst times". Several seconds later three more lights flickered into existence. Bob let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding and placed the package on the floor which emitted a small whine and began to pulse slowly as if counting down. He turned on his heel and walked out of the front door without so much as a good-bye, not as though anyone noticed; limey first years were too busy trying out different wands and Ollivander was too busy trying to keep his décor from smashing into millions of pieces.

00:30

He broke out into a light jog and took cover in an empty alley way.

00:18

He threw his cloak off and spoke into his microphone.

"All units stand bye. Get ready for phase two, over.", there was a cackle of static.

"_Affirmative. All units are green for initial volley, over."_

_00:7_

"Acknowledged… Bring the rain."

00:00

Ollivander's, Quality Quidditch Supplies, Eyelops Owl Emporium, Gambol & Japes, Madam Malkin's, Magical Menagerie, and Slug and Jigger's Apothecary erupted into gigantic flames, wood, stone, and concrete. Not to mention little bits of people. The latter establishment, with its collection of various potions and potion paraphernalia, tripled the output of the bomb itself, engulfing the stores next to and in front of it in a roaring multicolored flame. Half of Diagon alley was annihilated in one fell swoop. Cannon fire boomed through the static in his ear piece. Aurors by the dozens began filling through the few chimneys that hadn't been destroyed in the initial bombing. Faint whistles could be heard as shells hit the curved streets and buildings of Diagon Alley, the explosions drowning out the screams of agony and the cries for lost loved ones.

"_First volley, over."_

He peeked around the corner to see Medi-witches and wizards tending to the wounded and Aurors attempting to extinguish the flames. He turned his head back to his shoulder.

"All ROMEO A-R, engage."

"_Affirmative."_

Bob withdrew his Gyro faster than I could devour a whole pizza, and rounded a corner, pumping rounds into Aurors within range. The high explosive shells tore through their skin like a bolt of plasma through steel. A-R Teams all round Diagon and Knockturn alley disengaged their disillusion charms and opened fire. Curses flew towards him, cutting and blasting his armor's Kevlar layer into useless bits of hardened fibers. A tall, bald, black auror caught Bob in his sights and sent an unbelievably fast cluster of blasting curses his way. The effect was as devastating as a tank shell hitting the ground next to you. Bob was sent sailing into the air, and skidded to a halt on the roof of "Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor". He had lost his Gyro while soaring over a roof or two, so he switched to his wand and tapped his left temple, setting his vision right again. He reached for his belt pocket and pulled out a small pouch. He opened and upended it only to find broken glass and a sickly green sludge that burned through his gloves. "Shit. Unbreakable my ass.", Bob promptly blacked out.

Kingsley's breathing grew ragged as he sent curses flying towards his opponents, who began falling to the ground stunned, then stood up as if it were nothing. He looked up and saw a sickly green glowing object falling towards him rapidly. He pushed several of the younger aurors around him away before dodging left beside the entryway into "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes". The falling object, and several others like it impacted the streets of Diagon Alley, blowing them and several people, into pieces; unlike the people however, the streets and buildings were enchanted to repair themselves. Gambol and Japes had already extinguished itself and was looking right as rain. Save for its innards which was still marred and smoldering. The impact knocked Kingsley off of his feet. Fragments tore into his skin were they seared themselves into the skin and green energy cackled around him. He propped himself back up and ducked back into the alley, firing randomly around the corner to suppress the enemy.

"They've started using Unforgivables. Pull out all the stops." When Kingsley received no response from his aurors he grew worried. He conjured a thick brick wall and spared himself a glance backwards. He was shocked speechless when, instead of his aurors fighting bravely beside him as he was accustomed too, he was greeted by their bits and pieces

**#!+#!+#!+#!+**

* * *

Static boomed in his ear piece once more, shocking Bob awake. He shook himself steady and stood back up, wand in hand and ready to jump back into the fight. Shells impacted the streets once more. Runes on the giant 144mm slugs glowed before impact and Fiend Fire rushed in ripple-like effects, around the streets, re-kindling extinguished fires and effectively destroying those who had no means of protecting themselves. He slowly clambered onto a drainage pipe and shimmied down back onto the street, and came face to tip with a wand. Its wizard was battered and bruised. One eye was swollen and he looked badly burnt. His mouth quivered as if to cast a spell, and a loud ear-splitting echo, accompanied by a 50mm round utterly destroying the assailant's head and sending grey matter onto his face. Bob craned his neck, popping a couple joints and spoke.

"_Actually, its GOLF." _

"Golf? Damn baldy sent me flying a whole grid... Bob glanced around, trying to get his bearings but to no avail. Well, shit!"

He could hear a few light chuckles over the radio traffic.

* * *

**69696969**

* * *

All of Diagon Alley's inhabitants were currently holed up in Gringotts. All of the entrances to either Diagon or Knockturn Alley were either completely destroyed or covered by crack shot snipers. It didn't help matters that people were ignorantly apparating, splinching themselves and as luck would have it, those they treid to side-along apparate with. Luckily the wards were down. Could have been a lot worse than the occasional arm and leg here or there. The only available floo was in Gringotts, and that was by no means open to the public. Teams were positioned outside of "the world's most secure location besides Hogwarts". Snipers from both teams were carefully placed in strategic positions. Our soldier stepped into the clearing between the large double doors and the potential wall of bullets behind him. He stretched his neck from side to side and cracked his knuckles. He took a deep breath. "Bobby, are you sure about this?" asked one of his men.

"A 'course. Gringotts is neutral territory. We've done nothing to them, and they haven't done anything to us. And, assuming they don't want to start another hundred year war, they don't have nothing 'ta lose in letting me in. They see us "wizards", Bob emphasized with air quotations, as a collective. Our little squabbles ain't no concern to them." Bob slipped on a black skull mask, a balaclava, and his Kevlar helmet. It was stifling under all those layers, but when you've demolished a good fraction of the Auror Corps., A historical landmark for the international magical community, and killed hundreds, maybe even a thousand or two innocent bystanders, adding a couple pounds to your head was a sacrifice most were willing to make in terms of safety. Bob walked to the doors and placed a hand on the gigantic bronze doors. He gave it a little push. It didn't budge. His muscles twinged and his skin tight muscle suit kicked in, multiplying his physical strength. He pushed. He hinges creaked and moaned in protest. The entrance hall of Gringotts went dead quiet save for the occasional whimper and sob. On one side, Witches and Wizards of all shapes and sizes were set in small groups and currently, every pair of eyes, goblin or not was fixated on him. On the other side, the dead. Instinctively he slung his G36 to his frost and let his hands rest on it. It was a subtly intimidating gesture. The muggle-borns who were based more on the muggle half were scared stiff and rightly so. Though, the majority, half-blood or not, with no ties to the muggle world save for their spouses and what not, looked ready to pounce. Bob sized up his position. He didn't think he could dodge that many spells. He walked, slowly and wary of those around him, towards the front desk which was aaaaall the way on the other side of the hall.

Bob's footsteps echoed in the hall, but all he could hear was his heart, beating slowly at first, but sped up ever so slightly with each step. He caught movement in the corner of his eye. He rolled to one side, drew his gyro and fired at a cauldron that had been thrown at his head. The crowds flinched, and goblins crouched, hands glowing menacingly, ready to strike out at him. An older, considerably taller-than-the-average-goblin goblin waved them down. The offending object bounced and skidded to a stop on the dead side. He pointed his gyro towards his attacker. A young boy, maybe eight or nine, glared at him with unbridled rage. His face was scratched up pretty bad. The wounds would definitely scar and he had a large burn on his left arm. He picked up the cauldron and threw it back at him, knocking him unconscious and backwards. A middle aged wizard stood up and reached for his wand, but a woman, presumably his wife grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. "That's right, back the fuck up." said Bob as he waved his pistol about. He didn't like playing the bad guy, but it was what the situation called for.

* * *

AN: Please note that the soldier that the story follows in the first chapter is not the main character, and the story is intended to follow Harry through the War To End All Wars.


End file.
